


something good can work

by johnny-and-dora (sian_jpg)



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One-Shot, Pining, jake is a dork and amy is Conflicted™, late s2, somewhere between boyle-linetti wedding and det. dave majors???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:11:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian_jpg/pseuds/johnny-and-dora
Summary: Her phone chimes, jolting her out of her internal monologue. She smiles.“so do i have complete creative control here? badass mafia shootout at the precinct???? godzilla is destroying the city???”“Just make it seem important but believable, okay?”“sure. never fear, jake the hero is on his way 2 rescue u, fair maiden”in which amy reluctantly enlists jake to help get her out of a bad blind date & unwanted feelings ensue.(late season 2 peraltiago pining)





	something good can work

It’s not the _worst_ date she’s ever had.

Amy sighs a little as she tentatively sips her drink, tries to look attentive, just to be polite. Tries not to show how she couldn’t be less interested in the guy she’s sitting opposite, despite her mother’s insistence that he’s the man of her dreams.

She’s got nothing against him, she really doesn’t – he’s...nice. Smart, good looking, great sense of organisation. He shares her love of the new binder smell and fits her stupid no cops rule. He’s _nice_. 

Theoretically, he’s perfect for her – just the kind of guy she used to dream about getting married to one day, when it was that simple. 

But theoretically? So was Teddy. On paper, they were perfect, and now she can’t help but physically shudder at the mere mention of the word “pilsner”. The same goes for almost every guy her mom has been so desperate to set her up with over the last few years, every guy she’s forced herself to sit opposite and try to to look like she’s paying attention when really she’s bored out of her mind.

So yeah, he’s nice, and yeah, he’s not Teddy.  
But he’s not Jake, either. 

And she knows that shouldn’t be a problem, and she also knows it so very definitely is.

It’s not that Amy doesn’t appreciate her mom’s...intense investment in her love life. She gets it, she really does – her family has always been protective of her as the only girl, despite knowing only too well that she can protect herself. One of her fondest memories of high school is of her older brothers in the years above going out of their way to publicly humiliate the first guy that broke her heart. It's a maternal, natural instinct to make sure she's happy, and she really does love how concerned she gets.

She just doesn’t know how to tell her that the one guy she does like is the same guy she spent her first three years at the Nine-Nine almost exclusively complaining about. How can she, when she can barely even admit that to herself? And with Jake so cut-up after his break-up with Sophia, she’s knows there’s no chance for them. He’s obviously moved on, and she should too.

So she sits, and sips, and occasionally remembers to smile in the right places or laugh at his jokes – wearing heels that she hates in a garish restaurant that’s far too bright and far too loud and resisting the urge to put her head in her hands. Because she has to. Because this is what she does. 

And then, suddenly, she just can’t do it anymore. 

“I’m just going to use the bathroom.” She doesn’t even wait for a response before slipping away, phone already in hand. She’s too tired to do this and pretend like her hearts really in it when she knows it’s somewhere else – not tonight. It’s not fair on either of them.

She just wants to go home, curl up in bed with hot chocolate from her favourite Polish cafe and do today’s crossword; and (unfortunately for her) there’s only one person she knows with enough free time and good enough improv skills to help her out. 

So she finds his number, takes a breath, and presses call. 

“Santiago! Need help with your crossword? Thought you’d never ask.” He picks up almost immediately.  
“You’re the last person I- you know what? Never mind. I actually do need your help with something.”  
“What’s up?” The hint of concern in Jake’s voice pangs in her chest, but she shoves it down. 

“Weird request, but can you call me back in like, five minutes and make it look like I have some kind of made up work emergency? I need to get out of here.”  
“Is your book club getting too intense?”  
“I’m, erm, on a date, actually.” 

“Oh.” His gentle surprise hangs suspended in the air, just for a moment, and Amy can feel her heart in her throat.  
“...I’ll buy you coffee for a week? I just...everything’s fine, he’s fine, I just want to go home.”  
“What? Oh yeah, no...yeah. Sure.”

“Thank you.” Amy hangs up quickly before she can make it any more awkward and sighs, staring at her reflection in the mirror and wondering how long she’s looked this tired.

It’s not like she’s all-consumed with undying love for Jake. It’s actually far from it – she still spends most of her workday wanting to strangle him, infuriated by the crumbs littering every case file they work together, rolling her eyes at every “title of your sex tape” joke and worrying about his questionable eating habits. He’s still just _Jake_ , the smartass immature annoying detective she’s slowly learned to begrudgingly respect over all her years at the 99, and she’s just got a dumb crush that she’ll get over, just like she did last time.

And the time before that. And the time before that-

Her phone chimes, jolting her out of her internal monologue. She smiles.

_“so do i have complete creative control here? badass mafia shootout at the precinct???? godzilla is destroying the city???”_  
“Just make it seem important but believable, okay?”  
“sure. never fear, jake the hero is on his way 2 rescue u, fair maiden” 

She rolls her eyes and suppresses a smile, calmly walking back to the table and trying to act at least half-interested in her date’s wild anecdote about the time he accidentally graded his classes’ papers in black ink instead of red. God, is that what she sounds like when she geeks out over her new stationary? No wonder the rest of the precinct always laughs at her.

The sharp ring of her phone ten minutes later is a welcome relief, and soon she’s pulling on a coat and walking out of the restaurant, still trying not to laugh as she remembers Jake’s panicked voice hurriedly telling her that the president had been taken hostage by a swarm of angry sentient zombified bees, requesting her help specifically as he bravely and heroically took out the killer insects one by one. 

She could only just about stop herself from smiling whilst apologetically telling her date she had to leave and awkwardly assuring him that she’d call. 

She’s shook out of her good mood, though, by the kniving icy cold breeze and the realisation that with no available taxis in sight, she’s got to walk at least twenty blocks in the dark to the nearest bus stop. An obnoxiously loud car horn honks behind her, startling her - but she ignores it, too busy comparing the danger of walking a mile barefoot against the pain of walking a mile in her heels. 

The car horn honks again, louder and longer this time, as she decides she would much rather be in agony the whole way home than step in a piece of chewing gum – or worse – and she grits her teeth. The horn blares out continuously, as if it’s following her, but she keeps walking anyway. She’s really not in the mood to pepper spray some creep offering a ride home, and maybe if she just ignores the highly irritating ear-splitting noise, like she’s learnt to ignore the generally highly irritating noises of her desk-mate, it will go away. 

And in the first piece of good luck she’s had this evening, the horn actually stops and the street is as silent as New York gets. She unclenches her fists and breathes a sigh of relief. Finally. 

And then it honks again.

Amy snaps, whipping around with lightning hot speed to tell the owner of the car following her just where they can shove that horn – that is, until she finally gets to see who it is.  
She stops dead in the middle of the pavement as her stomach drops out.

“...You have got to be kidding me."

“Peralta’s lame date rescue service?” Jake shouts, grinning toothily at her as he rolls down the window – _how could she not recognise his heap of crap for a car?_ – and stops beside her, throwing the passenger door open. She stares incredulously at him for a second before attempting to recollect just a little of her dignity and standing defiantly with her arms folded, rolling her eyes.

“Jake, what are you doing here? How did you find me?”  
Turns out I’m a really incredible detective. Also, work emergency! I thought it might be, y’know, more believable if I actually came to get you to help save the president from the swarm of zom-bees.”

She raises an skeptical eyebrow and he sighs.

“Fine. You’re still logged on my ‘Find my iPhone’ after that time I hid your phone in the evidence lockup and couldn’t remember which box I put it in. Also, I was super bored, and...I, um, didn’t want you to have to walk all the way home on your own.”

“Oh.” This time it’s his turn to startle the quiet exclamation out of her. God, she could maybe stand a chance of getting over him if he didn’t keep pulling stuff like this. 

“That’s actually really sweet – but I can handle myself.”  
“Trust me, I know. I also know you were about two seconds away from pepper spraying me. Would you please just get in the car so I can take you home and brag the whole way about what a good friend I am?”

Amy hesitates for a moment, considering her options – drag herself home in the cold and in the heels that are agonisingly devouring her feet, or swallow her pride and hitch a ride with her stupid, kind-hearted, definitely not attractive to her in any way, completely platonic co-worker.  
Ugh.

“Fine.” She awkwardly clambers into Jake’s car, kicking off her heels and slamming the door shut as he begins to drive away.  
“Thank you.” She mumbles to break the awkward silence a few moments later, and is met by that dumb familiar dorky grin she’s definitely not obsessed with.

 _Come on, Amy; get a grip._

“By the way, your rescue service has a stupid name.”  
“What?” He dramatically puts one hand to his chest in mock offence and Amy can’t help but smile. 

“C’mon, _Peralta_ – one, it’s way too long and too much of a mouthful, and two – any business that has ‘lame’ in the title is never going to make any profit.”  
“Oh yeah? Well lucky for you, _Santiago_ , this is a non-profit organisation – we only take charity cases.”  
“Ha-ha.” 

There’s another few beats of silence, but they feel way more comfortable, just like the comfortable silences that (occur more and more lately) when they’re together on a stakeout or driving to the next crime scene. She indulges in a rare moment of peace, appreciating how he’s considerate enough to turn the radio down to a faint hum – it can actually be nice to be in a car with Jake while he’s not scream-singing Taylor Swift or badly attempting to rap. 

She’s also learned that whenever he’s this quiet it’s either because he’s trying too hard think of a joke or he’s trying to quietly grasp at a moment of sincerity like the ones they’ve taken to having in the long hours they have to spend cooped up together in his car.  
And this is exactly what she doesn’t need today. She can deal with emotionally inarticulate Jake but kind and sincere Jake? He’s the one that might make her do something stupid that she’ll regret. 

“So tell me, was this guy really so bad that you had to 'work emergency' him? ‘Cause trust me, I’ve been there and that is brutal, Ames.” She glances over at him to try and read his expression, but his eyes are fixed firmly on the road. 

“He wasn’t that bad. He was...nice. He spent twenty-five minutes talking about his favourite font.”  
“...I honestly can’t tell whether that’s meant to be a good thing or a bad thing.”  
“You know how much I love typography talk-“  
“-I do.”  
“-But twenty-five minutes? I really don’t know. We have a lot in common, I guess, but that only made me wonder if that’s how boring I sound all the time.”

Her small self-doubt from earlier slips out before she can stop it – another staple of their quieter late night drives, when they so often slip into honesty with ease. 

“Wait, you think you’re boring?” Jake asks, and when she nods a little he sighs, shaking his head and smiling like she’s just said something stupid. 

“Well, yeah, a little – I just blew off a date because I really just wanted to be home in bed doing my crossword. The only guys I ever get set up with seem to be part of the guild for most boring men in America.”

Amy knows he’s going to laugh at her so she turns away and stares out of the window, praying he won’t see how her cheeks are stained with red. It’s quiet for too long, though, so she tentatively turns back to find him looking at her with a rare quiet intensity.

“Amy, you’re like...the smartest person in the history of the universe. You’re a brilliant detective - and there’s no way you can possibly think you’re boring.” She’s definitely blushing now as she feels her face prickle red hot, so she raises an eyebrow to signal how she doesn’t believe him.

Mainly, she can’t believe how he’s being this genuinely nice to her. This is like, a once a month occasion at best (and it normally happens when they’re both black-out drunk at Shaw’s after closing a particularly difficult case, Jake openly complimenting her and Amy actually laughing at his dumb jokes.)

“I’m serious! Who solves awesome crimes every day?”  
“...I do.”  
“And who gives us all cool facts about space and history and books and all that crap?”  
“I do.”  
“And who let her stupid friend sabotage her date by coming up with some dumb story about zombees?”  
“I did. Also, nice job. Really got the ‘believable’ part of the memo, there.”

“First of all, you mean _bee_ -lievable” - Amy groans at the awfulness of the pun – “and second of all, it qualifies as a very serious important emergency, which was the main brief. You know how allergic I am to bees – I could have died if I didn’t have your backup.”

“Thank god I didn’t have you on speakerphone.” They both laugh, and she feels the slightest pull in her chest. She tucks her hair behind her ears, turning to stare out of the window again, allowing the smallest smile to rest on her face.  
Absolutely, definitely not wishing he could be one she went out on a date with tonight. Not at all.

Jake’s phone chimes twice but he ignores it, and Amy suddenly feels a pang of guilt as she realises she never even considered that he might have had plans tonight. She tenses in her seat.

“Hey, sorry, I never asked – I didn’t pull you away from anything important tonight, did I?”  
“Hmmmm? Oh, absolutely. My blanket fort kingdom of nachos, orange soda and trash TV is in great distress at the loss of their king.”  
“You are a literal child, but okay. Good.”  
“Good.”

There’s another beat of silence as Amy glances at her phone to check the time. Her stomach growls quietly as she realises she didn’t even get to the main course before walking out, and she feels another gentle twist of guilt. Did she do the right thing tonight? Getting Jake to come all the way here just to get her out of an awkward date, when there’s still all this history and tension between them?

Another rumble - and then there’s a twist of something else in her stomach as she imagines asking if he wants to get something to eat. She imagines going back to Jake’s and feasting on his impressive yet slightly horrifying collection of snack foods, throwing nuts at each other in one of their stupid competitive games _(one that’s been upheld ever since that one night, the night of their bet, the night that changed nothing and everything all at once)_.

She imagines them sitting in a makeshift castle of blankets and pillows, watching late night trash on the TV _together_ , imagines softly resting her head on his shoulder, intertwining their fingers, imagines them getting closer and closer until-

“Hey, you okay? You’re spacing out on me, Santiago.”  
“What? No! Yeah, I’m fine.” Amy says, a little too loudly, colour rapidly returning to her face.  
God, when did she become such a mess?

Oh, that’s right – when Jake told her he wished ‘something could happen between them’ right before he went undercover for six months and threw her, her life, and her otherwise perfectly fine relationship with Teddy off the stability cliff and into the pit of uncertainty, anxiety and unwanted crushes she’s been stuck in for the past year. 

He threw her plan completely out of the window, and now she’s here, desperately searching for the scraps that remain to knock some sort of sense back into her.

Because on paper, she’s perfect for Teddy, and good-looking, organised guys that spend way too long talking about fonts. On paper, the no-cops rule works, and her life isn’t a complete and utter mess and nothing has to change. On paper, she’s a permanent resident of the stability cliff, and all her plans actually work.

And that’s just it. She is planning and organisation and neatness, and Jake Peralta is a mess in every aspect of his – and now her – life. He is the furthest away from her plan she can get – he takes her plans, take her paper and makes aeroplanes out of it to throw at her desk, or scrunches it up, betting her that he can get it into the trash in one shot. 

It can’t work between them. Even if she so badly wants it to.  
She just can’t handle the mess. She knows she can’t. 

“You sure?” He says, gently pulling her out of her own head again, like he so often has to do when she’s drowning in paperwork or stuck working a hard case. It’s usually with some sarcastic remark or dumb joke she can roll her eyes at, but at times like these he’s learnt to just give her a gentle nudge, a quick soft glance as he brings his car to a stop outside her apartment. 

And she swears, caught out for a moment by the way he’s looking at her, that she isn’t sure. That she wants to throw every plan she’s ever made out of this car window and kiss him, just to feel his lips on hers, just to see what would happen, what they would both do. The spectacular disaster that they could create.

But she stays in her seat, and opts for a warm smile instead. 

“Yeah. Thank you for helping me out today.”  
“No problem. We’re partners, right? We’ve got each other’s backs.”  
“Definitely.” There’s another second where they’re just sort of staring at each other, and Amy feels like her heart might burst.

I’ll, um, let you get back to your nacho kingdom now. See you tomorrow?”

Jake opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but obviously thinks better of it as he closes it again and settles for a nod. She gets out of the car, closing the door with a heavy sort of finality and with butterflies in her stomach.

“Night, Ames.”  
“Good night, Jake.” 

She tries not to watch him drive away, but her gaze lingers on the taillights of his car until they slowly but surely fade into the night and she’s left with nothing but the dull light of the lamppost beside her, a pair of heels in her hand and a tight, constricting feeling in her chest.

It’s just a dumb crush.

And it’s still just as overwhelmingly stupid the next day when her heart can’t help but flip over as she watches Jake arrive (only fifteen minutes late this time) from the break room, ignoring Rosa laughing at how much of a stalker she is. 

It’s just as stupid when her cheeks glow as he smiles so wide at the still-warm cup of coffee waiting at his desk – and it’s almost overpowering when she watches him pocket the post-it note of gratitude she so carefully attached to it while he thinks no-one’s looking.

And just like that, he’s a problem. He’s the one reason everyone else Amy’s supposedly perfect for is just nice, or just smart, or the most boring man in America by comparison. The one reason that every date fails, because it isn’t the worst date she’s ever had – but it would be a whole better with him.

Every single guy she’s dated so far has not been Jake - and she knows that shouldn’t be a problem, and she also knows it so very definitely is.

He’s a nightmare, an incessant whirlwind of mess and spectacular disaster that she can’t have scribbling all over her life calendar and creating chaos in her perfectly planned out plans.  
He’s just a problem. That's all he can ever be.

But he’s _her problem_ – and as much as her heart aches for knowing he is the one thing her common sense can’t allow her to have, she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

(And when common sense finally, _finally_ does give out a few months later in the evidence lock-up, and when he finally does throw every plan she’s ever made out of the window, and when they finally do create a spectacular disaster that is more spectacular than she could have ever imagined, both of them have never been happier.)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! this is my first time ever writing about these nerds so i hope i did them justice ^-^  
> hope you enjoyed! you can come say hi over at my b99 tumblr @johnny-and-dora <3


End file.
